Page 53 of A Spark So Bright
The crowd shouldn't have overwhelmed her. It had been full of trolls she recognized. One was a florist who worked with Maia regularly in the cut garden, making the most beautiful bouquets that Rose had ever seen. Another was a jeweler who had given Rose a necklace that she'd never worn because it was so fine she was terrified of losing it. There was the baker who had the best sweet rolls and filled the streets with a sugary smell that made her stomach rumble.
These were people she knew. She was comfortable with them. She had spent countless months at their sides and she knew they meant her no harm. But the rushing swell brought back memories that she had hidden from for years.
The press of bodies was too much like the labyrinth when they had thrown her into the ring. Those men had smelled like sweat. Sometimes the men who’d entered her room had smelled earthy, but most of the time they’d smelled like sweat and the cologne they’d used to try to cover the smell.
Their weight had pressed down upon her, and usually this was where she would snap. She'd drift away to speak with Rhydian. He'd give her a project to get her mind off everything and it would all disappear. At least until she returned to this body.
This body that had betrayed her so many times. It remembered all that she did not.
She started to get lightheaded. Her breath came in little pants that she knew were the precursor to passing out. If she wasn't careful, she was going to fall flat on her face in front of all these people, and that was somehow even worse.
She didn't want them to think of her as weak. She didn't want to be this fragile little human who couldn't function like a normal person.
A hand grasped the back of her cloak, dragging her through the crowd and out into the open air. That hand thrust her forward, pushing her into the trees, past the forest glen, into the gardens where she knew there were people who would be angry that she had just walked through their lettuce. Beyond that, even, until she could breathe again because they were surrounded by bright, glowing leaves and nothing else. No one else.
Just her and her ragged breathing. Just her and the memories that pushed down upon her from above. No, not above.
From within.
She could feel all those memories wriggling and writhing in her belly. They wanted out. They wanted to claw their way out of her mouth, scratching and scraping as they went. All those memories were good for was pain and more pain, and she had to keep shoving them down. Deeper. Further. Until she couldn't hear them or feel them. Until they were squished below the weight of her tears and anguish and...
"No," she cried out, falling onto her knees in the dirt and digging her fingers into the soft loam. "No. Don’t think of them. Don’t remember any of this."
Footsteps. Then the sight of thick thighs as Gunnar crouched in front of her. "Is this why you always left?"
She nodded, staring down at her fingers.
There was already dirt underneath her nails.Dirty, messy little girl.She was born on the streets, and it seemed that no matter how hard she fought, she always returned there. Never worth anything other than to lie on her back and take what someone gave her.
All of that bubbled up. The guilt at what she had suffered was the worst of it, though.
And then a big hand came down next to hers. She had never noticed that Gunnar's hand was so scarred. Tiny dots of lighter green skin, scratches, long lines, all stories that he had never told her leading to those long black nails. Hands that weren't even remotely human, and yet, were in a way. Hands that she knew would never hurt her.
"Rose," he murmured. "I cannot help you if you do not tell me what is going on."
"The crowd. I should be able to stand in a crowd a year after my freedom and I still can't do it."
"Healing takes time."
"I don't want it to take time!" Her shout echoed throughout the small, mossy glen they stood in. She could feel it bouncing back at her with all the anger and rage that she felt burning in her chest. "I am tired of being scared all the time. I am tired of feeling like I need to flee this life just to exist. I hate that I cannot stand there and watch all those trolls welcome their prince. I can't even walk outside by myself without feeling like I should step into that other realm. I hate living like this."
His hand shifted just a bit closer to hers. Only a bit. Enough so that his pinky grazed hers. "You are exhausted. You just left the mountain for the first time, traveling with two trolls who are much more equipped to handle such a trip than you are. These are things to celebrate, Rose."
"I don't want to be so fragile."
"You are piecing yourself back together after horrible, terrible things were done to you. It will take time."
The words were like a lightning bolt to her brain. Maybe that was the problem. The core of it. Maybe that was the damage deep down in her soul, because they all believed that she was this abused, torn apart woman. A woman who had survived the worst that could happen to her and she... she...
"I only tried to stop them once," she whispered. "And even then, it wasn't much of a fight. I let them touch me. I let them do everything they did. I even wanted them to near the end, so I could easily slip away. It's my fault, Gunnar. I can't claim to be a victim when I participated in it."
Silence.
Sudden, loud silence that made her ears ring as the entire mountain seemed to hold its breath and wonder what he was going to say to that. Because she had finally told someone the truth.
It was ugly. But she had goaded those men to hurt her, even begged them near the end. She'd wanted to disappear from this realm so badly that it hadn't mattered what they had done to her. This body was just something to leave behind. Something that had no use because it only trapped her in a reality she hated with every breath.
Still, he said nothing. His claws had dug into the ground a little more firmly, and she felt as though she had to justify what she said.
